


A Night With the King

by klaineanummel



Series: A Night With the King [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Class Differences, Dubious Consent, Klaine is the endgame but there is very little of it in this fic, M/M, Power Dynamics, Tagging twice because I want emphasize that there is a lot of dub-con in this fic, minor D/s, very serious dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaineanummel/pseuds/klaineanummel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson leads a simple life. The son of bakers, he one day hopes to inherit his family's business and marry his childhood friend David, whom he's been engaged to for months, and eventually start a family of his own. His future is good, and he cannot wait for it to begin.</p><p>Fate has other plans. An exciting visit to his home town from the royal family changes the entire course of Blaine's life, as Blaine catches the eye of a particularly powerful royal. Unfortunately for Blaine, it is not the royal whose eye he hoped to catch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night With the King

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my contribution to the Blaine Big Bang! I'm so excited to finally post this fic, you have no idea!
> 
> A big thank you to Pace for not only helping organize the BABB but for being my biggest cheerleader when it comes to this verse and for beta-ing the shit out of this fic and actually making it readable. If it weren't for you I don't think I ever would have had the courage to even attempt a fic like this, so thank you 
> 
> Another huge thank you to my wonderful artist mypopculturesummer, who created absolutely fantastic cover art for this fic. It's super gorgeous, and I encourage you to go tell her how amazing it, and all the other art she has created, is!
> 
> This fic is part one of eight. There is a lot more to come! While Kurt is barely in this fic, I want to make it clear that the endgame of this series is Kurt/Blaine. He has a bigger part in part two, which I will begin posting in two weeks time. 
> 
> You can find an extensive list of warnings and pairings for this fic[ here ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753664325/a-night-with-the-king-warnings-masterpost), but please know that this fic deals very heavily with issues of dubious consent and unequal power in a relationship due to class difference (which is the basis for the dubious consent). There is no non-con, but it definitely toes the line in some areas. Please proceed with caution if this triggers you.

 

When Blaine Anderson opens his window on the first day of October, it is a warm breeze that greets him rather than a cool one. Blaine smiles as the air washes over him, ruffles his curls, and brings warmth to his entire body. He is so glad that it is warm today, as opposed to the past few weeks of cool weather, because today is a very, very special day.

Not only is he absolutely positive that David will finally master the hot cross bun today, but it is also the day that the King and his entourage will pass through town on their way to a meeting with the King of Essex. There have been rumours that the meeting is about the betrothal of their sons, Crown Prince Kurt of Lima and Prince Adam of Essex.

Truly the reason for the meeting does not matter. What matters is that the royal procession will pass before Blaine's house sometime this afternoon, as they have announced their intention to stay the night at the inn just down the street from Blaine’s home.

Blaine is a little embarrassed by how excited he is about this procession. He is aware, however, that David is as excited as he is, and for the same reason. It makes Blaine slightly less embarrassed.

For you see, today will be the first time since Blaine was eight years old that he will catch sight of the Crown Prince.

He knows it is silly, but he cannot help but feel giddy at the thought of once more setting eyes on that beautiful man. For many years after the first sighting of the Prince, Blaine had dreamt of the Prince’s return to Westerville to claim Blaine as his groom.

It is a silly childhood fantasy, one he has long outgrown, but one he cannot help but indulge on this day. It helps that the previous day, as they had said their goodbyes, David had admitted to a similar crush on the Prince, as well as a similar excitement for seeing him today. It makes Blaine feel slightly less silly, knowing his fiance feels the same as him.

There is a knock on his door, and Blaine hurries to answer it. His father is on the other side, face already specked with flour, both eyebrows raised expectantly.

“You aren’t even dressed.”

Blaine blushes. “I am sorry, Father. I was lost in my thoughts.”

His father rolls his eyes, but he still smiles fondly. “Well, gather them and hurry downstairs. David has already arrived. Oh, how wonderful it will be to have a punctual son for once.”

Blaine laughs at his father’s joke and hurries to comply. A full day’s work will certainly help distract his mind from the occurrences of this afternoon.

Soon enough he is down in the bakery. His mother is already rolling out the dough when he arrives, his father’s elbows deep in a large bowl of flour, and David is out in the shop, sweeping and humming happily. Blaine allows himself a second to appreciate this moment, and, briefly, to visualize a future where it is he who has his hands in a large bowl of flour, David who is rolling out the dough, and their own child out in the shop preparing it for the customers. He sighs happily, then pulls on a worn apron, and begins his work.

**

After much pleading from Blaine and David, Blaine’s father has agreed to close the bakery at five rather than its usual eight. They have been quite busy today, so Blaine is sure they will not be losing much profit.

It seems the entire town is as excited as he and David are, for by the time they have flipped the sign on the bakery to ‘closed’ there is already quite a crowd gathered outside. David has run upstairs to quickly rid himself of all traces of flour, but Blaine cannot wait any longer. He runs outside to join the crowd, pushing his way to the front of the crowd and joining an excited conversation on whether or not the royal family will wander about the town or if they will simply remain at the inn for the duration of their stay.

“I hope they wander,” one of the girls he is speaking to says. “I would so love the opportunity to get a close look at that scrumptious prince.”

“I completely agree,” the other girl says. Blaine knows her name is Marley, as they were in the same class when they attended school, but he does not know the other girl. “When my family was in the capital last summer my sister saw the Crown Prince wandering around with his first concubine. Apparently they were quite a sight to behold.”

The first girl sighs dreamily. “Would it not be the most exciting thing, to be the Prince’s concubine? Oh, I can hardly imagine without going weak at the knees.”

Marley sighs and flicks some hair out from in front of her face. “I don't know if I could do it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've fantasized about the Prince as much as the next person,” she elbows Blaine at that, and Blaine hopes the flour covering his face will also cover his blush. “But really I don't think I could pick him over Jake.”

The first girl scoffs. “That's because you two are basically married already. And don't you dare deny it because I've heard the rumours.

Marley also blushes at this. “They're just rumours. Don't believe everything you hear.”

The girl chuckles. “I'm sure.” She winks at Blaine, as if they're in on a joke together. “All I'm saying is that the Prince has been perfecting the art of making love since he was fourteen. At twenty-one I can only assume that he's quite good by now.” She winks at Blaine again and Blaine wants to disappear into the ground. He has never heard anybody speak so bluntly about such things; at least not somebody of his own caste.

“Kitty!” Marley smacks her shoulder lightly. The girl--Kitty--shrugs and sends Blaine another wink.

“What?” she asks, smirking. “You’re telling me you’ve never thought of it?”

Marley scoffs and Blaine blushes.

The truth is, he has thought of it. When he was thirteen and his maturing began it felt as though it was all he thought about. By then Prince Kurt was seventeen, and every picture that Blaine saw in the papers made him harden instantly. It got to the point where Blaine could not look at the news of the day with others present, as there seemed to be a picture printed of Prince Kurt in every edition.

Even now, his crush long gone, he still finds himself thinking of the prince when he has time for himself. He is so easy to lust after. Tall, broad shoulders and a slim waist. Hair always styled high. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, lips the most gorgeous of pinks. He is quite possibly the most beautiful man alive.

Of course, what the girl Kitty is talking about, being the prince’s concubine? That thought had never entered Blaine’s head. He has always been a romantic, and therefore all of his fantasies included Prince Kurt refusing any concubine until he met his one true love (Blaine, obviously), and then continuing to refuse concubines even after their marriage. That fantasy is even sillier than the fantasy of Prince Kurt choosing Blaine as a groom, for in the entire history of the Kingdom there have only been two pairs of Kings and Queens who have refused to take concubines. Still, Blaine hoped and dreamed, and was devastated when it was announced that Prince Kurt had chosen his first concubine.

Regardless, he is just as guilty as she is of fantasizing about the prince. Again, he would feel bad if he was not also aware that his future husband has had his own share of fantasies about the man as well.

Speaking of his fiance, hands wrap around him from behind, and Blaine smiles happily and rests back against the familiar embrace.

“I didn’t miss him, did I?” David asks, voice quiet against Blaine’s ear as he rests his chin on Blaine’s shoulder.

“No, you’re fine. Although most likely once again covered in flour.”

David chuckles. “Should I let go?”

Blaine grabs his hands and makes sure he holds on tighter. “Don’t you dare.”

“Well aren’t you two simply adorable?” Marley says, grinning at them. “Blaine, I didn’t know that you and David were betrothed.”

Unsurprising, really. Westerville may not exactly be the metropolis of the capital, but it’s still quite a large town. He’s honestly more surprised that she knows David at all.

“Yes, for several months now,” Blaine says, grinning happily. “We’re hoping to wed sometime this summer.”

“As soon as possible, really,” David says, kissing Blaine on the cheek. Blaine turns and chuckles when he sees the traces of white flour now coating David’s lips.

“You goof.”

Kitty hums as she looks between them, then says, “So I suppose you would not leave him for the Prince either?”

Blaine blushes, but David instantly laughs. “Blaine? Leave me for the Prince? Oh, in a heartbeat,” he wriggles his fingers into Blaine’s side, causing him to squirm and giggle. “I wouldn’t even begrudge him it. He knows I would do the same.”

He kisses Blaine on the cheek again and Blaine cuddles in closer. “True love,” he says, sending a wink of his own Kitty’s way. Kitty chuckles and shakes her head, looking away from them. Blaine wonders if she is engaged as well. Perhaps she, like he used to, is hoping that the Prince will look her way and whisk her off to the castle. He is sure that every man and woman his age has dreamt that at least once.

The crowd grows louder and Blaine hops onto his tip-toes and leans out as far as he can into the street in order to see who is arriving. There is a knight on a horse turning the corner, and Blaine’s heart skips a beat.

He’s here.

He bites down on his bottom lip and bounces up and down on the soles of his feet, watching as one by one the royal party turns the corner and comes into sight.

The horses are more majestic than any other horse Blaine has ever seen, and as he waits for the Prince to make his appearance Blaine distracts himself by watching the beautiful animals. He’s always wanted to own a horse. He is struck by an idea, that once he and David take over the bakery they will set aside a certain amount of their daily profits so as to save enough money to buy a horse and transform the unused shed behind the bakery into a stable. Yes, he will tell David all about it once the parade (for that is what it feels like, truly) has ended.

“Blaine, look,” David whispers in his ear, and Blaine looks away from a beautiful, sleek, black mare and up to the horse behind her. Or, more importantly, to the horse’s rider.

There he is. Blaine feels his breath catch in his throat as the Prince trots by on his horse. He’s smiling at all of his subjects, giving them small waves. He doesn’t look as though he’s forcing himself to do this. His eyes, a gorgeous mixture of blue and green, twinkle with delight as he glances around the crowd.

He’s even more gorgeous in person than he is in the pictures the papers print of him. He sits perfectly straight on his horse, shoulders seeming broader than ever. His thighs look incredibly powerful, and Blaine finds himself blushing at that thought, but still cannot look away.

He is perfect. His body, his face, his enthusiasm at greeting his subjects. Blaine’s heart is beating a mile a minute in his chest, and he can feel David’s heart beating just as quickly against his back. He settles himself in closer to David, reminding himself that the man before him is nothing but a fantasy. The man behind him is his future.

That thought immediately flies out of his mind when the Prince turns in their direction and their eyes meet. Blaine gasps and the Prince’s mouth falls open slightly. His horse continues moving, but the Prince’s gaze does not leave Blaine’s, his head turning so as to continue making eye contact.

“Oh my god,” David whispers into his ear. “Blaine, he’s looking at you.”

Blaine can’t even think of a reply, too focused on the fact that Crown Prince Kurt is _still_ staring at him. The Prince’s lips are parted, as though in shock, and Blaine truly wants nothing more than to rip David’s arms from around him and dash forward into the Prince’s arms.

Never before has his body responded so vividly to another man. Warmth spreads throughout his entire body and nothing seems to matter aside from the Prince keeping his eyes on him for as long as possible. He feels light, as though his entire body has filled with air, as though he could float away at any moment. Those eyes, those beautiful, beautiful eyes bore straight through his own and into his heart, where Blaine knows they will stay forever.

Then, as though they were never there, the eyes disappear, as does the man attached to them. Blaine holds his breath and cranes his neck to try and see the Prince once more, try and catch his eyes again, but he is now too far ahead. He literally held Blaine’s gaze for as long as he could.

“Blaine,” David whispers again. “Oh my god, _Blaine_.”

Blaine still has no response, feeling both excited and utterly drained by the encounter.

“There’s the King!” somebody shouts, and Blaine just barely has the energy to look up in time to see the King waving from inside his carriage, smiling at his subjects, just as happy to be out among them as the Prince had been.

Oh, the Prince. Blaine looks away, down at the ground, already mourning the end of the ten seconds spent in the Prince’s sight. One of David’s arms loosen from around his waist and he knows that David is waving at the King. He knows that he should too, as it is only the polite thing to do, but he simply cannot bring himself to look up once more. It is as though every ounce of motivation has been drained from his body.

He stays where he is for the rest of the procession, short as it is, remaining standing almost entirely thanks to his fiance’s hold on him. Most of the crowd follows the royal party to their final destination, but Blaine cannot find it in him to move beyond stepping out of David’s grasp and stumbling his way back into the bakery.

He falls into one of the chairs set up for waiting customers as soon as he is inside the building. He does not understand any of the emotions currently rushing through him.

“Hey,” the door to the bakery jingles and David is standing in front of him. “Are you alright?”

Blaine shrugs because he doesn’t _know_.

“That was pretty incredible,” David says, leaning down a little so that they are eye to eye. “You know, when the Prince couldn’t stop staring at you.” He smiles and Blaine smiles back, but it feels forced, which is strange because part of him is jumping for joy. The Prince looked at him. He couldn’t _stop_ looking at him. The Prince _liked_ him. The Prince, whom Blaine has been fantasizing about for almost ten years, noticed him. He is absolutely ecstatic.

But it meant nothing. A passing glance, and Prince Kurt will return to his concubines and his future husband or wife, and Blaine will marry David and take over his family’s bakery.

It will be a good future, and although it wasn’t the future he originally wanted, he has grown to love David very much, and cannot wait until their wedding day arrives. Still, it is difficult to have your childhood dream presented to you so blatantly only to be snatched away within seconds.

“I feel silly,” Blaine whispers. He looks down at his hands, still covered in flour, then back up at David. “I love you. You know I love you, right?”

David gives him the sweetest smile and Blaine knows, regardless of his moment with the Prince, his future _will_ be a good one. “I know,” David replies, cupping Blaine’s face with his hands. “I understand.”

“I just -”

David shakes his head. “You don’t need to explain to me.”

Blaine is quite possibly the luckiest man in the world. He leans forward slightly and David takes the hint and presses their lips together. Yes, he and David _will_ have a good future. Of that he is sure.

**

It is unorthodox and Blaine knows it, but it does not stop him from asking permission for David to spend the night. They won’t be sleeping in the same bed, of course - that is entirely unheard of - but simply having the knowledge that David is in the same home as him brings him comfort.

His parents are puzzled as to why he is so drained instead of bouncing off the walls in excitement as he had been the last time the Prince rode through town. Blaine explains that he was much younger then, thanks his parents for allowing David to stay, and returns to the bakery to finish cleaning.

David follows him soon after. “You know your parents mean well.”

“I know,” Blaine says, sighing and leaning slightly against the broom handle. “They don’t know what happened today, and I cannot begrudge them that.” He smiles as honestly as he can. “I’m sure by tomorrow all of this will be forgotten.”

“It’s all right if it’s not,” David says, stepping closer to him. “If the Prince had stared at me as he stared at you I don’t think it would take me a night to forget,” he reaches out and takes Blaine’s free hand. “Or have you forgotten that at thirteen I was as miserably in love with the Prince as you were?”

This time when Blaine smiles it is truly honest. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” David scoffs. “I would be mad to be mad.”

“Oh, stop,” Blaine swings their connected hand back and forth.

David chews on his bottom lip as he stares down at Blaine, then says, “You know I won’t begrudge you if you go to him.”

Instantly Blaine’s mood plummets. He pulls his hand back and shakes his head. “David…”

“No, I mean it Blaine. If the Prince calls on you I want you to go.”

“The Prince does not want me,” Blaine says. “And even if he did, I am already betrothed.”

David shrugs. “That does not matter to royalty. You know they abide by different rules.”

He does know. “I wouldn’t want you to go,” he admits quietly, looking away. “I don’t understand how you would be okay if I went.”

David takes his hand once more and tugs him close, forcing Blaine to look at him. “I would be mad with jealousy,” he says, tilting Blaine’s chin up. “But I know deep in my heart that you love me, and one night with the Prince would not change that. The knowledge that at the end of the day you will be my husband would get me through one night without you.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” Blaine says, and he really doesn’t. David grins and brings him in for another kiss. Blaine accepts it happily, briefly allowing himself to deepen the kiss before breaking away. He glances toward the window to ensure nobody is watching. There will already be rumors about David spending the night, but if somebody sees them kissing so intimately shortly before…

Blaine’s heart stutters in his chest because there _is_ somebody outside. A young man, pale and thin, staring into the bakery with a hand raised to knock on the door. The knock echoes through the room and David and Blaine spring apart.

Heart racing, Blaine hurries to the door and opens it. The young man’s breathing is so laboured that Blaine wonders if he has just run all the way from the capital. He takes a moment to catch his breath as Blaine says, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

“Do you live here?” the man asks, still breathless. Blaine frowns.

“Yes, with my parents. We own this bakery.”

“And you were at the procession, earlier this day?” the young man asks, hands leaning on his bent knees.

“I was.”

“Covered in flour?”

Blaine flushes at that. “I was too excited about the procession to wash myself after I finished working.”

“Your presence -” he stops to breath in and out heavily, “Your presence is requested by his Majesty the King.”

All the breath is stolen from Blaine's lungs. “Pardon me?”

“Your presence -” the man can't finish the sentence, pausing to catch his breath again. “Please just come.”

David places a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and Blaine looks up at him, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. “I told you,” David says, a small, bitter smile on his face. “Go.”

“David, I-”

“He wants you,” David says, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine thinks he would cry if he weren’t in such a state of shock. “You can’t-” David pauses and shuts his eyes, hands clenching. Blaine knows what he’s going to say, and it breaks his heart as much as it must be breaking Blaine’s. He knows they discussed it early, but for it to actually happen… “Go. I’ll be okay. Just come back to me, okay?”

Blaine doesn’t want to. Not as he sees a tear slip out from David’s still shut eyes, not when he notices the way his fiance is shaking. His own heart is beating rapidly against his ribcage, and he _doesn’t want to_.

David is right, though. He can’t say no. Not to this. Especially not since the Prince had the King summon him. You don’t say no to the King.

Blaine nods at David and starts to follow the young man out of the bakery. He pauses at the front door, wondering if he should turn back and give David a kiss. He turns his head to look at David one last time, but finds that David has already turned away from him and has his face between his hands. Blaine’s heart cracks right down the middle, and he wishes more than anything that he could stay with his future husband.

He could, of course, technically, but it’s unheard of. Nobody refuses a member of the royal family; especially not one as handsome as Crown Prince Kurt.

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? As Blaine walks down the street, the young man at his side, grumbling under his breath about wasted time and better instructions, he finds that his sadness at being separated from David is slowly growing into excitement. Not only did Prince Kurt see him, but Prince Kurt _remembered_ him. Prince Kurt _wants_ him, and badly enough to have his father summon Blaine. He wants him in the same way that he has always wanted Prince Kurt. It’s exhilarating and entirely guilt inducing.

“It better be you,” the young man grumbles as they finally reach the inn, whose tavern is far busier than usual, most likely full of those trying to get another glimpse at the royal family. “Otherwise I do not care how many of my family members the King has saved, I will _not_ go back out there searching bakery to bakery for some elusive boy covered in flour.”

“It’s me,” Blaine assures. “I was the one covered in flour. Besides, I remember when he saw me.”

“Do you?” the young man rolls his eyes at that, and Blaine blushes. “So this must be no surprise to you then.”

“Oh, no, it is quite the surprise,” Blaine says as they enter the tavern. “I never imagined I would be summoned.”

“That makes two of us,” the young man says, though over the boisterous crowd Blaine barely hears him. “He doesn’t do this often, you know. Barely goes to visit his concubines lately.”

Blaine’s heart flies. “Really?”

“Yeah,” the young man snorts. “He says he’s getting too old for those shenanigans,” the young man shakes his head, and Blaine frowns. Too old? The prince is but twenty-one. He is at a prime age of sexual maturity.

“Too old?” Blaine asks aloud this time, and the young man laughs.

“Oh, that’s good. You tell him that, he’ll love it.”

They push their way to the front of the tavern and are waved forward by the woman behind the bar, who sends the young man a wink. He blushes but continues up the stairs, where Blaine assumes the rooms must be.

This is really happening. He digs his fingernails deeply into his palm so as to wake himself should this be a dream.

Desperate to occupy himself with something other than his growing anxiety, he says, “You seem to know the Prince well. You speak of him quite candidly.”

The young man pauses at the top of the stairs and frowns. “The Prince? I know him well enough, I suppose.”

“Oh,” Blaine feels confused, though it does little to override how excited and terrified he is of what is about to occur.

“Look, can you hurry up? It really is not my job to run around town looking for young boys that I won’t even get to sleep with, and I would truly rather return downstairs where there are people who may actually warm my bed tonight.”

Blaine is sure that he blushes right down to his toes. “No need for such candor.” Blaine says, hurrying up the final stairs.

The young man chuckles. “Right. I always seem to forget the celibacy policies in the provinces. No worries, after tonight there will be nothing that will make you blush again,” then he winks at Blaine and turns a corner.

Blaine follows silently, mind racing as quickly as his heart. This truly is happening. He has been summoned by Prince Kurt exclusively so that they may sleep together. He’s heard of this happening before, of course, although not as much so in recent years. Neither the King or Prince seem too interested in picking up men or women for one night of depravity. Or, if they are, they hide it well. Perhaps Blaine will be made to sign a contract swearing he won’t tell a soul of what occurred between himself and the Prince.

They reach the final door of the hallway and the young man knocks. A gruff voice calls out, “Mason, is that you?” and the young man smirks.

“Your Majesty, I found the boy.”

The door swings open in an instant, and Blaine’s eyes widen it what he truly hopes does not look like horror.

That is not the Prince.

That is the King.

The King who is smiling ear to ear at Blaine, eyes roaming over his body, and saying in a quiet, intimate tone, “So you have.”

Blaine is at least enough in control of his faculties that he remembers to bow as low to the ground as he can manage. “Your Majesty,” he says, though it barely comes louder than a squeak.

“None of that,” the King places two fingers under his chin and uses it to make Blaine look at him, still partially bent at the waist. “What is your name?”

Blaine wets his lips, heart stuttering in his chest. “B-Blaine Anderson, your Majesty.”

“Polite,” the young man, Mason, says. The King turns to him and waves him off with a flick of the wrist. Blaine hears the young man’s steps as they further down the hall and his heart rate picks up once more.

He is alone with the King.

“Please, Blaine. Come inside.”

Blaine passes in front of the King, who is holding the door open for him as though Blaine were the member of royalty. He stares around the room, and for some reason is surprised that it looks as every other room in the inn. He would think the inn keepers would have made a larger effort to make this room special for the King.

The door clicks shut, and Blaine hears a lock turning. He himself turns in time to see the King slipping a large key into his pocket. He turns away again, trying to even his breathing.

This is not what was supposed to happen. This was not what was supposed to happen at all.

“I apologize,” the King begins, “for stealing you from your home this night.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “There are no need for apologies, your Majesty,” he says, hands balling in the fabric of his pants. “Truly I should thank you for this opportunity.”

To his surprise, the King laughs. “Opportunity?” he asks, voice light. “You really are polite.”

There are footsteps, and then the King is standing directly behind him, his breath heavy on Blaine’s neck.

“The man you were with,” the King whispers, one hand going to Blaine’s arm, fingers light as they run the length of it, “is he your husband?”

Blaine shakes his head minutely, goosebumps erupting over his skin. “Betrothed.”

“And have you… abided?”

Blaine knows what he is asking and for what feels like the thousandth time this day he blushes. “We have.”

There is a hitch in the King’s breath. “So you are untouched?” he asks, as though Blaine’s previous answer was not enough.

Blaine takes a deep breath, the King’s fingers burning through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I am.”

The Kings fingers trail all the way up his arm, then caress the side of his neck before resting on his jaw. Blaine shivers and exhales shakily.

“You are exquisite,” the King whispers, so close now that his lips brush Blaine's ear. “Even before, covered in flour, eyes so wide and beautiful…”

Blaine cannot reply, doesn't know what to say. Thank You does not seem like enough. Nobody has ever said things like this to him, not even David.

He and David are abstinent though. The King… The King is not.

“I want you to know, Blaine,” the King whispers, hands now resting on Blaine's shoulders, “that you are entirely at liberty to say no.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “Thank you, your Majesty,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

The King's lips brush his ear once more, though this time it seems purposeful. “You're shaking.”

“I'm nervous,” Blaine replies weakly, the words _I thought I was being summoned by your son_ running through his mind.

Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps the Prince had stared at him not with lust in his eyes but knowing he would be a man his father would enjoy. It makes Blaine feel hollow inside.

“Blaine,” the King’s fingers are on his chin again and he uses them to turn Blaine's face so that he is facing him. “If you do not wish to be with me tonight you need only say so.”

Blaine swallows thickly. He…

He wishes it was the Prince. He cannot deny that much. Never in his life has he thought of the King as anything beyond a benevolent figure. He is a good, fair King, and that was all Blaine needed to know.

His choice matters, and because he knows that the King is fair and good that he will respect Blaine's wishes, but…

There are rumors. Stories about past men and women who have warmed a king or queen's bed for a night. Legends of silver and gold, enough to live comfortably for many years. Once, long before Blaine was born, there were rumors that the wife of the tailor in town spent a night with the queen and since then the quality of their fabric increases exponentially.

He doesn't know how much he believes these stories, but if there is a chance that he and David can have not only a good life but a comfortable one as well? He will take it.

At the same time, there have been rumors of past men and women who have denied members or royalty. Destroyed reputations, businesses ruined. In school he heard that a queen once exiled a woman who refused to leave her husband to spend a night with her. Blaine does not want to know what would happen to him should he say no.

Besides, he tries to reason with himself, wanting to push those dark thoughts away, what other opportunity is he going to have to be with a member of royalty? And as that girl Kitty said, they are adept at the art of love making. The first concubine is always chosen at fourteen, and the King has to be at least forty-five, if not older. He has been doing this for thirty years.

Blaine has only kissed David twice with tongue.

“I wish to be with you,” Blaine whispers, glancing shyly up at the King.

The King smiles. It's warm and kind. Blaine thinks this could be worse.

The King’s hands travel down to Blaine’s hips and he turns them so that Blaine is now entirely facing him. His hands are warm, even through the two layers of fabric. It is frightening to think that quite soon Blaine will know how they feel without the fabric in the way.

“You are still shaking.”

Blaine doesn’t know where to look other than the King’s eyes. “I am sorry, your Majesty.”

“Burt.”

Blaine’s lips part as a small surprised shock leaves his lips. “Your Majesty…?”

The King shakes his head, smiling and bringing one hand up to caress Blaine’s face. “I prefer my lovers to call me Burt.”

Lovers. That is what he and King would soon be. Blaine is about to become one of the King’s lovers.

One of Burt’s lovers.

It sounds strange even in his mind.

“I do not think I could,” he replies. “It would not be proper.”

“It is only us, Blaine,” the King says, thumb rubbing circles over Blaine’s cheekbone. “There is no need for propriety.”

Blaine swallows thickly and forces himself to say, “Yes, Burt.”

The King smiles at him gratefully, then takes his hand and begins to lead him to the bed. Blaine feels his cheeks redden the closer they get to it.

“You are beautiful when you blush,” the King tells him, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. He pulls Blaine forward by the hips so that he stands between the King’s legs. “Tell me, Blaine Anderson, how old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Blaine whispers.

“And already betrothed?”

Blaine nods. “It is quite common in our town,” he says, still speaking quietly. “My parents were married at sixteen.”

The King gives him a considering look. “And your fiance?” he asks, squeezing Blaine’s hips.

Blaine doesn’t want to think of David right now. He looks away from the King. “He is burning with jealousy.”

“I will send him gifts of apology,” the King’s hands run up Blaine’s sides, then back down to his hips. “I can only imagine he will be angry that I have taken you from him.”

“He is a more understanding man than I,” Blaine admits. “I would not be able to bear it should he be here instead of me.”

“And he will be greatly rewarded for his understanding.” The King’s fingers dip under Blaine’s breeches and begin to untuck his shirt. “But now is not the time to think on these things.”

Blaine is breathing faster already. For the first time in his life he feels utterly virginal, standing before this man who has spent over double Blaine's life participating in these kinds of activities.

What if he is not good? Will the King still send David consolation gifts? Or will he be forever shamed, known as the boy who disappointed the King?

The King lifts Blaine's shirt above his head, and Blaine is forced to raise his arms to accommodate the move. He can feel goosebumps erupt over his now bare chest. The King inhales sharply as he drops Blaine's shirt onto the floor.

“Exquisite,” the King says for the second time that night, his hands going to Blaine's arms. “Blaine, you are unbelievably beautiful.”

“Thank you, your Ma- Burt.”

He blushes at his slip, at referring to the King by name, and at the hands on his arms. They are so much warmer without his shirt. The skin of the King’s palm is rough, calloused, and seems to catch on every fine hair covering Blaine's arms. Blaine shivers.

They're large as well, the King’s hands, though Blaine doesn't really realize it until they're spanning an entire shoulder blade each and pulling him close. The King’s eyes are closed and his lips have slackened, opening slightly, and Blaine only has a moment to realize what is happening before the King presses their lips together.

It feels… it feels different. Different than kissing David, different than when he kissed that merchant girl when he was fifteen.

The King kisses like he is aware that he knows how to kiss. And he does, Blaine can tell within seconds. The King is an excellent kisser. Blaine almost wants to ask him to forget everything else and just teach him how to kiss all night.

Their lips separate and the King says, “You are allowed to respond to my kisses. In fact, I encourage it.”

Blaine chews on his bottom lip, embarrassed. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts…

The King kisses him again, hands pressing on his back to bring him close. Blaine puts his entire mind into it this time, kissing the King back as well as he knows how. Which, he really doesn't know much, and is entirely blindsided when the King slips his tongue into Blaine's mouth.

He squeaks and jumps away in shock. The King gives him a worried glance, face so very close. Blaine hasn't been able to back away far, the King’s hands firm on his shoulder blades.

“What is wrong?” the King sounds so concerned. Blaine feels terrible.

“I'm incredibly sorry your- Burt. I was simply surprised. I have never kissed that way so quickly,” _or barely ever_ he adds in his mind.

“Of course,” the King smiles and brings Blaine close once more. “We will go as fast or slow as you desire,” one hand leaves his back and cups his jaw. “I want to make this special for you.”

Blaine looks away, flattered beyond belief and feeling incredibly guilty. This man is being so kind, so understanding, and all Blaine has been able to think is how he wishes it were the prince instead, or about the luxuries he and David will receive for the rest of their lives because of this. He does not deserve this kindness.

“You are too kind y- Burt.”

The King smiles warmly. “You barely said your majesty this time,” he teases.

“I believe I am growing used to it,” Blaine admits.

“Good. I hope to hear my name from your lips as often as I can.”

There is something off about that sentence, part of it missing Blaine thinks, but the King distracts him by kissing him once more and Blaine sets aside all other thoughts outside of kissing the King back to the best of his abilities.

This time there are no tongues, not for quite some time. The King kisses him languidly, in no hurry, hands roaming Blaine's back and bringing him slightly closer every now and again.

By the time tongues are once again introduced, Blaine has the overwhelming desire to climb into the King’s lap so that they may be closer. He's had this feeling several times with Dave as well, though he has never indulged it. He knows better than to tempt either of them in that way.

He's meant to tempt the King though. The King is meant to desire him. He must please the King if he and David are to receive their gifts.

So, without another thought to it, he hooks his arms around the King’s neck and attempts to climb into the King’s lap.

It is not as smooth as he wishes, and the King laughs as he helps Blaine up, hands on the backs of his thighs, dangerously close to his butt. Blaine blushes as he is placed firmly on this King’s lap, legs on either side of the man’s hips.

“Hello,” the King teases. Blaine blushes.

“I had an impulse.”

“I hope that is not an apology,” the King squeezes Blaine's thighs and Blaine shivers. This may not be what he expected of the night but he cannot deny that, so far at least, he is enjoying it. “I quite appreciate that impulse.”

Blaine doesn't reply. Instead, feeling daring, he initiates a kiss himself, opening his mouth to allow the King’s tongue inside.

It feels strange, he cannot deny, this man’s tongue in his mouth. It had felt strange when he and David did it as well, although both times their tongues came into play it was because of desperation. There is no desperation in this. There need not be. Both men know how the night will end.

The King’s tongue curls around Blaine, and suddenly a loud moan echoes through the mostly silent room. Blaine's eyes widen and he separates from the King, who is smirking and inching his hands up the back of Blaine's thighs.

It was him. He was the one that moaned.

He cannot help but duck his head in embarrassment. Never before has he made a noise like that, training himself quite early on in his masturbatory habits to keep silent. Even during his most intense of orgasms he has never felt the urge to moan like that. Yet here he is, doing nothing more than kiss the King and he is moaning like some sort of wanton whore.

“Do not be embarrassed,” the King says, kissing Blaine's jaw. “Never be embarrassed for making such a wonderful sound.”

“I'm so-”

“Do not be sorry,” the King cups both of Blaine's cheeks with his hands now, holding his face so that Blaine absolutely must look at him. “Please stop apologizing.”

“It's hard,” Blaine admits. “You… You are very experienced. I am afraid I will disappoint you.”

“Impossible,” the King murmurs, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss.

“But I do not know… I have barely thought of these things.”

It’s painfully embarrassing, but it is the truth. Most of Blaine’s fantasies consist of heavy kissing, some groping, rutting, and then… orgasm. Once he had fantasized about David taking him in his mouth and he hadn’t been able to look at the boy in the eye for over a week. Besides, it had been much too difficult not to get carried away as they kissed after that particular fantasy. He knew it was better to abstain from the thoughts as well as the actions.

The King gives him a considering look. “Do you know what two men can do, together?”

Blaine nods. “I am not _that_ innocent.”

He remembers the day his parents explained the many different ways he may have sexual intercourse in his life. They explained how it would work should he take a wife, and they explained how it would work should he take a husband. Blaine spent the entire conversation with his eyes on his lap, trying desperately not to become aroused as his thirteen year old hormones rushed through him.

That night before he fell asleep he fantasized about having the Prince inside him, and later about being inside the Prince. It is the only time, to date, that he has indulged that specific fantasy, and he was so embarrassed by how utterly sexual the entire thing had been that he refused to think on such things ever again.

The King smiles, and it looks almost indulgent. “Of course not. So tell me, Blaine, of the things that men can do together which would you rather do tonight?”

Blaine stares up at him with wide eyes. “You want me to decide what we do tonight?”

“I do not want to push you beyond what you are comfortable.”

Blaine can’t help the small smile that emerges on his lips. “I am comfortable with whatever you wish. I am entirely yours for the taking, your Majesty.”

Blaine almost gasps out loud when something twitches against his leg. His lips part in surprise when he realizes that it was the King’s cock that had made the movement.

“Please, Blaine. We were doing so well.”

Blaine does not understand what it is the King is speaking of. His mind is entirely focused on the fact that the man is hardening against Blaine. “Huh?”

“Burt, Blaine. Please, call me Burt.”

“Burt.” Blaine repeats the word, though he barely registers it.

“Are you alright?”

Blaine nods. “You just - it’s your - I’ve never -”

The King seems to understand, and he teasingly rolls his hips against Blaine’s so that Blaine may feel his hardness more firmly. Blaine actually does gasp this time, lips falling open and his own cock beginning to fill.

“You just?” the King asks, leaning forward to kiss Blaine’s neck. The action brings them close once more, and as the King begins to mouth at Blaine’s neck he continues to roll his hips upward and towards Blaine. It feels like so much, even though Blaine knows they are only just beginning. Already he feels ready to burst, and he continues to quietly gasp and moan as the King licks, sucks, and nips at his neck, all the while his cock thrusts against the back of Blaine’s thigh, just below his hands, which have once again fallen below Blaine’s waist.

One hand inches up until it is cupping one of Blaine’s ass cheeks, and then gives it a rough squeeze. Blaine moans out load and begins to thrust his hips against the King’s.

This cannot be real. He did not think it was possible to feel this much pleasure, and from nothing more than the King rubbing himself against Blaine and palming at his ass.

The King kisses his way up Blaine’s neck, to his jaw, to his cheek, to his lips. He nibbles on Blaine’s bottom lip, hand flexing around the ass cheek in his hand, his other hand skimming around Blaine’s thigh and coming to rest just below his crotch.

“Are you okay to continue?” the King asks him quietly. Blaine nods and leans in for another kiss. The King kisses back far fiercer than before, his hand making it’s way up Blaine’s thigh until it resting over Blaine’s cock. He gives it a greeting squeeze, and Blaine throws his head back as he moans far louder than before.

“Oh, darling boy,” the King whispers, moving his hand further up and then dipping it below the hem of Blaine’s pants. “You’re so beautiful when you moan for me.”

Blaine’s breaths are coming in rapid pants as the King lowers his hand into his pants and wraps that large, warm, calloused hand around his cock.

He pumps Blaine once, twice, thrice, and Blaine is coming over his hand, mouth open in a silent cry, eyes tightly shut, his heart in his throat and his breath quick.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath, and when he does he realizes what has happened. He has just come far before the King has, in the King’s lap, while the King stimulated him manually, only minutes after they’ve begun. What is worse, the King is still incredibly hard against Blaine’s thigh.

Blaine wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, scrambling off of the King’s lap. “I’m so sorry, your Majesty, Burt, your - I’m sorry.”

The King shakes his head and wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist. Blaine has managed to get both feet on the floor, but he has not gone much further, and the King pulls him close easily.

“You have nothing to apologize for; except perhaps for your insistence on calling me your Majesty when I have told you three times now to call me Burt.” He sounds severe, but his smile is kind. Blaine finds himself relaxing in his hold. “Besides, it is your first time. To be quite frank you lasted longer than I expected.”

“I barely lasted a minute.”

“A minute longer than I,” the King admits. “When I took my first concubine I barely lasted a second. She made fun of me desperately for it.”

“How unkind,” Blaine says.

“She meant well. Still does.”

Blaine feels something stirring at the base of his stomach. “She is still your concubine?”

“Of course,” the King says, as though there is no other option. For all Blaine knows there isn’t. He has never researched what it means to be a concubine. After the prince took his first concubine when he was fourteen and Blaine was ten, the very thought of concubines has always left him feeling uncomfortable.

Blaine chews on his bottom lip, trying to think of what to say. He finally decides on, “I am glad that you are kinder than she was.”

The King lowers his hands to Blaine’s ass once more and gives the cheeks a gentle squeeze. “Somebody as beautiful as you deserves the best first time. I intend to give that to you.”

“I believe you already have,” Blaine says quietly. The King stares at him for several minutes, then breaks into a large grin.

“Well, I suppose so,” he says with a small laugh. He caresses Blaine's butt gently, rubbing circles with his palms over each cheek. “Anything else you'd like to try before the night is done?”

Blaine shrugs and glances away. “You seem quite infatuated with my buttox.”

“One would have to be blind not to be.”

“If you keep complimenting me like this I will get a big head.”

“You deserve the compliments, and therefore they will continue.”

Blaine can't help it. He grins. “Thank you, your- Burt.”

“What must I do to make you forget your propriety?” the King squeezes Blaine's butt and he squeaks.

“It will be difficult,” Blaine says as the King pulls him closer. “My parents raised me right.”

“So they did,” the King reaches out and kisses Blaine softly. “You are right, though. I am quite enamoured with your ass. I do hope you will give me a chance to show you how much.”

Blaine's throat dries and his cock gives an almost painful twinge.

“As I have said before, I am at your service. Whatever you wish to do to me…”

“With you,” the King corrects quickly. “I do not wish to do anything _to_ you. I wish to do many things _with_ you.”

Blaine places his hands on the King’s broad shoulders. “That is quite a distinction to make.”

“I have told you before, Blaine, that you are entirely at liberty to leave whenever you please. I will never force you into anything. Even now if you have changed your mind I will call Mason out of his bed and request he return you to your home and your betrothed.”

“But you have not…” Blaine makes a vague gesture to the King's middle, where there is still a very prominent bulge.

The King shrugs. “Your comfort is more important than my pleasure.”

This man is more than Blaine deserves. Blaine who was expecting something different entirely. Blaine who is mainly continuing out of a duty to his future. Blaine who has already come while the King is still hard as a rock.

“I heard when I was being educated that a man can be inside another man,” Blaine says boldly. “I would love it if you could show me how.”

Before Blaine can be embarrassed by what he has just said he is on his back on the bed, the King above him, a mouth against his.

It feels stronger this time. There's meaning behind it. The desperation has finally come out to play.

“You would give me such a gift?” the King asks as he peppers Blaine's lips with kisses. “To be your first? To teach you the ways of pleasure?”

“I already have,” Blaine says, giving the King a small smile. “I do not see a reason why you cannot be another of my firsts.”

“Oh, you little minx,” the King kisses him again, his hands wandering to the top of Blaine's pants. He grips the sides tightly and pulls them down in one quick motion. Just like that Blaine is naked before another man for the first time in his life.

The King looks him over in awe. “You are the most beautiful man I have ever met.”

“I am sure that is not true,” Blaine says, humble.

“It quite is,” the King replies. “I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Perhaps you think flattery will get you inside me faster.”

The King stares at Blaine, eyes wide in shock. He smirks. “You _are_ a minx, aren't you?”

“I am whatever you want me to be,” Blaine says. The King seems to like that answer. He leans down and wraps his hand around Blaine's cock for the second time that night.

“It will be easier if you are aroused.”

Blaine lets out a low moan as his half-hard cock begins to fully harden.

“I should,” he pauses to take a deep breath. “I should be pleasuring you.”

“Nonsense,” the King says, pumping Blaine a little faster. “We pleasure each other.”

“But I have not pleasured you.”

The King shakes his head, smiles, and twists his wrist just so at the tip of Blaine’s cock. “I have a beautiful man who is allowing me to introduce him to pleasure at the hands of another. You have pleasured me greatly.”

Blaine’s back arches slightly and he says, “Please, your - Burt, please. If you continue I will… again.”

The King doesn’t stop immediately, instead slowing the pace of his hand over Blaine’s cock. It must be at least thirty seconds before he releases him entirely. He pushes himself away from the bed, away from Blaine, and Blaine is a little embarrassed at the whine that escapes his lips at the loss of the warm body above him.

The King goes over to a trunk that Blaine had not previously noticed. He rummages through it, letting out a triumphant shout when he finds what he is looking for.

He returns to the bed with two items - a small pot and something that looks vaguely like a sock, if socks were as thin and long. Blaine knows what these items are, has learnt about them at school and from his parents, and his breath hitches.

It is happening. This is happening. He’s known, all along, but it’s one thing to know and another to experience. Blaine is about to experience.

The King uncaps the pot and dips two fingers inside. They come out shiny and wet. He rubs them together, and then looks Blaine directly in the eye, eyes almost entirely black.

“Spread your legs.”

Blaine inhales sharply, and silently obeys the King’s command. It is the first command he has been given all evening, and he has to admit he likes it better. There is less blurring of the lines this way.

Cool fingers touch his hole and Blaine yelps in surprise. The King holds his hips down with his clean hand. Blaine props himself up on his elbows and looks down as the fingers return, more careful this time.

He thinks the gasp he lets out is a combination of the feeling of a finger on his hole and the sight of the King staring between his spread legs and licking his lips. Blaine falls back into the bed with another gasp as the King rubs circles around him.

Then one finger breaches him and Blaine is pretty sure the sound he lets out is a scream.

It's an extreme reaction, even he knows it, but the King groans and starts to thrust the finger inside Blaine. He liked it. Blaine moans loudly again and the thrusts of the finger inside him speed up.

He stores that information in a corner of his mind, in case anybody he knows ends up in this situation as well. _The King likes his lovers vocal_.

That thought leaves his mind instantly as the King curls his finger just so, and Blaine keens, arching his hips so that the King’s finger will penetrate deeper.

The King takes out his finger and returns with two, which definitely feels more like an intrusion than one had. The King’s fingers are thick as well, and stretch the walls of Blaine’s ass in a way that feels incredibly odd. To be quite honest, Blaine isn’t sure if he likes it that much. Still, he moans and rolls his hips so that they match the rhythm of the King’s thrusts. He is determined, no matter what, to please the King.

Soon he has three fingers pumping in and out of him, and then four. His ass aches, but he continues to moan and spreads his legs slightly wider. Every now and then he glances down to look at the King, who isn’t making much noise at all, and is encouraged at the way the King is staring at the place where his fingers disappear inside Blaine.

“Please, Burt,” he says, not for a moment faking the breathlessness in his voice. “Please, I’m ready.”

The King’s breath hitches and he hooks an arm around Blaine’s hips, pulling him down so that their middles are aligned. He kisses Blaine, messy and wet, and when they part whispers, “You called me Burt.”

“I did,” Blaine says, still breathless. “ _Burt_ ,” he moans it this time, and the King moans in return.

Fingers find his hole once more and thrust inside him quickly as the King kisses him fiercely. Blaine wraps his arms around the King’s shoulders and lets noises escape his lips straight into the King’s mouth.

Finally the King pulls away and picks up the protector. He is still entirely dressed, a stark contrast to Blaine’s nakedness, and merely pulls his pants down far enough to reveal his cock, long and thick and so, so _hard._ Blaine’s throat dries as he stares at it. He’s never seen a cock other than his own, and the King’s is quite large. Larger than his own, at least.

 _I wonder how large the Prince’s cock is_.

The thought shocks Blaine. Despite the many fantasies he’s had of the Prince, never have they involved specifics like that.

That was before he had any experience though. By now he has come at the hands of a man, and is now waiting as said man coats his cock in the same oil that fills his ass, ready to lose every ounce of innocence he has left.

He wonders how many fantasies he will now have of the Prince being inside him, or of himself being inside the Prince once he has experienced that as well. How will he look David in the eye, as he will no doubt fantasize about him as well.

There is a blunt pressure at Blaine’s entrance, and the scream he lets out this time is of pain, rather than of pleasure. He thought that three fingers were large, but they are nothing compared to the cock slowly easing into him. His hands fall to his side and he fists the blanket beneath him.

“It’s okay,” the King whispers, one hand firm on Blaine’s waist, the other caressing his cheek softly, catching on his lip with every pass. “I will go slower.”

“No, I’m alright,” Blaine says. He must be good. He must be good for the King.

“You are not. I will go slower.”

Blaine doesn’t have the breath or the words to argue. The King goes slower, and, thankfully, the pain lessens. By the time that the King is fully inside Blaine it’s… well, it’s starting to feel less like an unwanted intrusion. In fact, it’s beginning to feel a little pleasurable.

The King stays still for what feels like hours, allowing Blaine to adjust to having something inside him for the first time.

“You feel wonderful,” the King whispers, leaning his head down to rest his forehead against Blaine’s. “So wonderful. Better than I imagined.”

“You imagined?”

“Of course,” the King kisses him lightly on the lips. “Why else would I have my page run around town like a madman in search of you?”

“Perhaps you saw the flour on my face and wanted to know if I made good cake.”

The King kisses him again. “You are far too coherent.”

With that he pulls out of Blaine and immediately slams back in. Blaine’s head falls back against the mattress and his hands once again fist in the bedding. “Oh,” is all he manages to say, the word leaving his lips like a gasp.

The King begins a slow rhythm, once again allowing Blaine to adjust to the new sensations. It feels better, Blaine has to admit, now that it isn’t simply lying inside of him. He can feel the way the King’s cock drags against the muscles inside him, and after several thrusts he begins to bear down every time the King is fully inside him.

After several minutes the King brings a hand to Blaine’s cock, but Blaine bats him away. When the King gives him a confused look, Blaine says, “Virgin. Close.”

That seems to be enough for the King, who groans and begins to kiss Blaine desperately. At this point it’s more lips mashing together than it is actual kissing, but Blaine doesn’t mind. He is truly beginning to enjoy himself at this point, the head of the King’s cock brushing an absolutely lovely spot inside of him every now and again that makes him arch his back and keen without need for exaggeration.

“So beautiful,” the King whispers between thrusts. Blaine thinks his face would heat up if it weren't already incredibly red from their current activities. “Mine,” the King thrusts particularly hard and Blaine gasps at the sensation. “All mine.”

“All yours,” Blaine thinks, adding _for tonight_ in his mind. For it is the truth. For tonight he is the King’s.

A couple more thrusts and Blaine comes. It feels like so much more than when he came earlier. The King keeps fucking him through it, telling Blaine how good he looks, how amazing he is taking it, how incredible he feels around him.

Blaine doesn't think anything has ever been as intense as the twenty seconds after he comes. It's as though he's riding a cloud, rolling through the sky, boneless and relaxed.

Then he is brought back to earth, where he is still being fucked.

He groans, beginning to feel sensitive. The King whispers, “I'm close. I'm close.”

Blaine hopes he is. The King’s cock hits his prostate and he shouts. Amazing, how only minutes ago it was given him incredible pleasure but now it is only giving him pain.

Finally the King comes, after twelve more incredibly painful thrusts, each of which Blaine counts in hopes that the number will be low. It is, but considering his current state of oversensitivity it feels unbelievably high.

The King’s thrusts become shallow as he comes, a wonderful reprieve, and he finally pulls out and rolls over, collapsing on the bed next to Blaine.

Blaine gives himself a moment to recuperate, the begins glancing around the room for something to clean them. He finds it soon enough, a small pitcher with a towel sitting on the table at the other end of the room.

He goes to get it, but a hand stops him.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean us,” he says, giving the King his kindest smile. The King glances down at himself, at his cock which is still exposed and covered in the protection piece, which bulges slightly at the head.

“Good plan,” he says, and he stands up as well. He heads to a bucket while Blaine goes to the pitcher, wetting the towel. He wonders if the King specifically requested this, knowing what was to happen tonight, or if it was simply an amenity of the room.

Blaine turns around, the wet towel in hand, only to find the King standing over the bucket, protection in hand, trying to shake the last bit of his come out of it. Blaine's eyes go to his cock, far less intimidating now that is not hard.

It makes Blaine aware of his own naked state. He hurries back to to the bed and quickly goes under the sheets. He wipes his stomach and ass with the towel, then quirks an eyebrow in the King’s direction.

“What?” the King asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you expecting to use the same cloth on me?”

Blaine can't tell whether or not he is teasing. “There is only the one.”

“Why don't you at least wet it again?” he is smirking, making it easier for Blaine to discern his tone.

He shakes his head, looking away. “You only wish to see me naked once more.”

“In my defence, you look _incredible_ naked.”

Blaine chuckles but does as the King asks. He knows he still may displease the King, despite their love making being at an end, and that is not something he is willing to risk.

The King whistles as Blaine pours more water over the towel, and Blaine smiles to himself. Regardless of the situation it is nice to know that the man he lost his virginity to still finds him attractive without said virginity.

He returns to bed and once again covers himself with the blanket. He holds out the towel to the King, who raises an eyebrow and then glances down at himself. Blaine blushes but understands and reaches down to wipe the remaining come from the King’s cock.

It feels strange, feeling it in his hand, even through the towel. It has been inside him, after all. Nothing else had ever been inside him before.

It twitches in his hand and Blaine gasps.

“He likes you,” the King says. Blaine glances at it, then back to the King.

Shyly, he says, “I like him, too.”

“Good,” the King presses a kiss to Blaine's lips, grinning. “Now, I am exhausted.”

“Oh, of course,” Blaine nods and begins to stand, “Give me a moment to collect my clothes and I will -”

“Stop, come on,” the King slips under the covers and pulls Blaine close. Blaine is still sitting, however, making for an awkward position. The King presses a kiss to the base of his spine. “Stay.”

“Are you sure?”

The King nods, and Blaine can feel it against his back. “Stay with me.”

“Alright,” Blaine agrees, lowering himself so he is lying down next to the King. The King soon wraps his arms around Blaine's middle and holds them close. It is strange, having a naked man behind him. He can feel where the King’s cock rests soft against Blaine’s thigh, and it makes everything feel so much realer.

It happened. That all just happened.

Blaine just lost his virginity to the King.

They are quiet for several minutes; so long Blaine wonders if the King has fallen asleep.

Then, a quiet voice asks, “Was it okay?”

Blaine shivers as warm breath hits the back of his neck. “What?”

“Your first time,” is the gentle response. Blaine smiles. This man truly is too kind.

“Yes,” he says. “It wonderful.”

**

Blaine wakes with a start, heart beating quickly, feeling as though he is somewhere he shouldn't be. He glances around the unfamiliar room, confused. Then, he remembers.

The King. The procession. Sex.

He had sex.

He really has to pee.

He glances at the King, who has an arm wrapped loosely around Blaine. It isn't restrictive, thankfully, and Blaine manages to slip out of his hold easily.

He pulls on his breeches and quietly exits the room, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar in case it locks.

It doesn't take him long to find the water closet and he relieves himself with a happy sigh. When he is done he wipes his hands on the towel provided and thanks the gods that the King has water in his room.

He begins to walk back, but pauses when he hears voices approaching. Fearing being caught somewhere he isn't meant to be (are the King’s lover’s allowed to leave his side to go to the washroom? Blaine doesn't know).

“- are you sure?”

That voice. Sweet and beautiful. Sharp and high, absolutely lovely. Blaine's breath leaves him in a sharp exhale.

That is the Prince. There is nobody else it could be.

“Positive,” that is the young man, the page who brought him here. “I searched all over town and could not find your mystery boy.”

“Perhaps you could look again in the morning?”

“Your Highness,” there is bite to the young man’s voice. “I am your father's page, not yours. If memory serves correctly, you have three pages of your own, one of which is here with you. Ask him.”

“He couldn't find his own hands if they weren't attached to him. Please, Mason, I beg of you. The connection we shared -”

“Was magical, unlike any other, he may be the one, yes I've heard it all your highness. I already went all over town looking for that boy for you. I will not do it again. If it really means that much to you, you go find him.”

The Prince sighs. “I would not know where to begin.”

“Then you and I have that in common. If you will excuse me, it is late.”

Blaine hears one set of footsteps retreating and he holds his breath, knowing the Prince must still be standing close.

After several seconds another set of footsteps sound as well, and Blaine continues hiding behind the water closet door, heart beating quickly in his chest, until the sound of footsteps disappears.

He hurries back to the King’s room, unable to stop the quick rate of his heart. He lies back in the bed and the King’s arm instantly wraps around him again.

“Where'd you go?” he mumbles, and Blaine knows he is not fully awake.

“Water closet,” Blaine whispers. The King lets out a quiet, sleepy groan, and his breathing evens out.

Blaine can't stop thinking about the conversation he just overheard and its repercussions.

The Prince didn't want him. They're moment meant nothing. The page hadn't only been looking for him, he'd been looking for a boy for the Prince as well.

It hurts more than it should, considering how little it matters. He is one of the King’s lovers now. All chances at his fantasy life with the Prince have been shattered. He's lucky that David still wants him.

Still, the moment with the Prince had affected him so greatly. To know it meant nothing to the Prince, that he wanted somebody else…

It really should not matter. The King wanted him. The _King._ Who cares about the Prince?

He sighs and settled himself further into the bed, trying to become comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.

He doesn't manage it for another hour.

**

When he wakes up the next morning it's to kisses being pressed to the back of his neck. This time he has no issues recalling where he is and why. Or the conversation he overheard the previous night.

“Good morning,” a rough voice whispers. Blaine shivers

“Good morning,” he replies.

The King continues to kiss him, mouthing at the side of his neck with soft moans. “I could get used to this,” he says.

Blaine can't help but smile. Who cares about the stupid Prince when the _King_ could get used to waking up with him? Unthinking, he mumbles, “Me, too.”

The King freezes behind him. “Really?”

Blaine hums and buries his face in his pillow. It's the softest pillow he's ever felt.

“I am so glad to hear that,” the King says, and it takes Blaine several seconds to remember what it was he said, mind still a little groggy. “I thought I would have to spend more time convincing you, but if you already feel this way…”

Blaine frowns at that, because he may be groggy but he knows without a doubt that he has no idea what the King is talking about.

“What?”

He turns to face the King, who is smiling far too wide for how early it is. “I thought I would have to convince you to become my concubine, seeing as you are betrothed, but I am glad to know we are on the same page.”

Blaine freezes. His eyes widen and his heart stops.

“Concubine?”

The King smiles teasingly. “You didn't think I'd let someone as exquisite as you go without a fight, now did you? Of course I want you to be my concubine. I've wanted it since I saw you yesterday standing in front of your bakery covered in flour.”

Oh god. Oh, he had not prepared for this. A night, of course. He knew what the King wanted of him _for the night._ Beyond that… well, he expected several gifts of thanks, expensive flour sent to the bakery perhaps, or several chests of gold. But a _concubine_.

“You look troubled,” the King says. “Did you… I thought we were on the same page.”

“I apologize, your Majesty,” Blaine says, sitting up. “I was not aware of your desire to make me your concubine. I am only a little in shock.”

“Why on earth would I not want you to be my concubine? A man like you deserves to live a life of luxury, not the life of a baker's son.”

This isn't happening. This can't be happening. The King is _not_ asking Blaine to abandon his entire life - both present and future - so that he can live at the castle and have sex with him whenever he wants.

Blaine has plans. He has a betrothed. He has a bakery that he will one day inherit. He can't give that up so that the King can make love to him whenever the mood strikes him. He can't, he can't, he _can't._

It's the King.

He can't say no.

“That you for your generous offer, your Majesty,” Blaine says, attempting to portray some manner of emotion but finding himself entirely unable to. “I would very much like to be your concubine.”

If the King can tell how flat and lifeless his acceptance was he doesn't say. He pulls Blaine close and kisses him all over, then fingers him open and makes love to him once more.

It feels good, Blaine cannot deny that, but it also feels empty. It was wonderful doing it last night, knowing he was doing it for him and David, for their future. Now he's doing it because it's his job. Because he has to.

Because he can't say no.

By the time they are finished Blaine feels entirely empty. All of his hopes and dreams, the wonderful life he had planned… gone. He wonders if he will even be allowed to say goodbye.

“Your Majesty,” Blaine says quietly as the King traces circles around his clavicle. “I would like to request permission to say goodbye to my family and my be-” he clears his throat. “David.”

“Oh, of course,” the King says, smiling. “In fact, you should stay here. At least until we return from Essex. Get your affairs in order and such.”

Blaine nods. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

The King chuckles. “I see your propriety has overtaken you once more. We are lovers now, Blaine. You are my concubine. Call me Burt whenever we are alone.”

Blaine nods but doesn't say anything. He doesn't think there is anything left to say.

A knock at the door interrupts the awkward silence. A now familiar voice says, “Your Majesty, we are beginning to prepare for our departure.”

“Thank you, Mason,” the King says. “I will be ready quite soon.” He then turns to Blaine with a sad smile. “Is it terrible that I do not want to say goodbye?”

Blaine shakes his head, but still cannot find words.

“I will miss you while I am in Essex,” the King says. “Every thought will be dedicated to you.”

Blaine ducks his head. He can feel tears beginning to prick at his eyes and he refuses to cry in front of the King. It is the one thing he has control over in this terrible situation and he refuses to lose that tiny semblance of control.

“You are so kind to me.”

“You deserve it. You deserve everything.”

Blaine shuts his eyes tightly. He does not like the implications of those words.

“Thank you.”

The King kisses his forehead and then gets out of the bed. Blaine follows suit, mechanically redressing and sitting at the foot of the bed when he is finished.

He waits until the King is dressed as well, and then together they exit the room. Several servants run into the room after them, to pick up their mess Blaine assumes. They walk through the inn in silence, the King’s hand resting gently at the small of Blaine’s back.

Chaos greets them outside, servants running around, trying to get everything ready for when they leave. The King curls his hand around Blaine's side and squeezes his hips.

“I will miss you while I am gone.”

“And I you, your Majesty.”

The King smiles fondly. “You won't forget me?”

 _As if I could_. “I will think of you every day, your Majesty.”

The King leans down and kisses him, in full view of everybody bustling around. Blaine kisses back, hoping none of his friends see. They will know already, that is unavoidable, but he would rather they not see.

“You should go,” the King whispers. “Before I decide to take you with me.”

Blaine backs away, instantly following the King’s orders. He only has a few months, perhaps a year at most, to spend with his family and David. He refuses to have that taken away from him as well.

“Until we meet again,” Blaine bows and the King nods in agreement.

“Until we meet again.”

The exchange one final kiss and Blaine sets off. He doesn't look back, afraid of the fondness he will see in the King’s eye. Knowing how strongly the King feels for him, remembering how kind he's been, it makes it difficult for Blaine to justify not wanting to be his concubine.

He isn't watching where he is going, lost in his own thoughts, and he runs headfirst into a very solid body. Hands immediately go to his shoulders, steadying him.

“I'm very sorry,” a voice says, and Blaine's throat dries as he looks up directly into Prince Kurt’s eyes.

Blaine takes a step back, ducking his head and flushing to the tips of his ears. “Beg pardon, your Highness. I was not watching where I was going.”

“It’s you,” the Prince whispers, so gently that Blaine almost doesn't hear him. Blaine feels his eyes prickle with tears once more.

The Prince knows. He knows Blaine was with the King. He knows he is to become the King’s concubine.

Never before has he been more humiliated.

“If you would excuse me,” Blaine says, lowering his head further and rushing away.

“Wait!” the Prince shouts. “What is your name?”

Blaine doesn't answer, instead continuing to run up the street away from his shame. Away from a new life he never wanted, away from the night he told himself would be for the best. Away from a man who is taking everything from him, but promising him the world. Away from a man Blaine has wanted his entire life but did not want him, and who now knows the King had him.

Of course the Prince would have found out eventually, as Blaine will be living in the castle soon, but that he already knows, that he is aware of what Blaine has done, what he will continue to do…

He reaches the bakery and bangs on the door until it is opened by his mother, who frowns.

“Blaine! Darling, did you run here?”

He doesn't answer. Instead, he falls into her arms and finally allows himself to cry.

**

“When do you leave?”

The question comes from his father, after several minutes of awkward silence. David is standing away from the rest of them, looking out the window, posture far too straight to be natural.

“Whenever they return from Essex,” Blaine says, feeling like bursting into tears once more. “It could be a year, it could be three months. I don't know.”

“Did you know? When you went to him?”

Blaine shakes his head. “I thought it was the Prince who wanted me.”

His mother looks up from her lap for the first time since he told them. “Was he kind to you? Because if he… if he forced you… and will continue…”

Blaine shakes his head again, more emphatically this time. “He did not force me. He made sure that I…” he glances at David, who has his fists clenched at his side. “That I wanted it,” he finishes.

“And this?” his father gestures to Blaine. “Do you want _this_?”

Blaine looks over at David once more. David catches his eye, then looks away.

“Yes,” Blaine says, keeping his eyes on David, hoping to mentally communicate the truth. “I want this.”

David slams his hands against the window frame and storms off. Tears well in Blaine’s eyes once more.

His mother covers his hands with hers. “Don’t be sad, darling,” she says. “He’ll be alright. I’m sure there are plenty of young men and women that he can wed.”

Blaine nods, but cannot find the words to reply.

“This is just a shock for him, Blaine,” his father adds. “For all of us. But if this is what you want then we will support you.”

“Thank you,” Blaine whispers, his voice scratchy. “I’m… I’m going to talk to David.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” his father asks.

“Perhaps not. I suppose I will soon find out.”

**

David is behind the bakery, sitting on an upside down barrel they use to collect rain water.

“Hey,” Blaine greets cautiously.

David turns to glare at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What?” Blaine frowns and moves to stand closer to him.

David stands up. “In there. Why did you lie to your parents about this?”

“I - I didn’t.”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” David asks, teeth gritted. “I know you, Blaine. I’ve known you since we were children. I’ve known I wanted to marry you since we were children, and I know you haven’t always wanted the same thing, but right now, in this moment, I know you do.” Blaine looks down at his feet, David’s glare giving him the desire to once again burst into tears. “You’re telling me that after one night of passion with a man you’ve never expressed desire for you’re willing to give all of this up?” he waves his hand around. “The bakery? Our marriage? Our future?”

David scoffs, then continues. “If it were the Prince I would believe it. But the King? You’ve never spoken of the King outside of political conversations, and the only opinions you hold about the man are that he is a good ruler. So pardon me if I don’t exactly believe that you’ve suddenly changed your mind about everything you love for a man you’ve thought on twice in your life.”

Blaine feels a tear leak out of his eye and fall down his cheek. “I can’t say no,” he whispers. “David, you have to understand. I can’t… I can’t say no.”

“Then why didn’t you tell your parents that?!” he shouts, standing up. “Why did you just lie to their faces?! They deserve to know the truth!”

Blaine looks up and sees that David has tears in his eyes, too. “It’s easier,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “You remember how it was when Cooper left. They were devastated. I - if they knew I didn’t want to go? That I felt obligated because of what it would do to them, to our family, if I refused? I can’t do that to them, David. I can’t.”

“So it’s better that they think both their sons left willingly? That both their sons never wanted to see them again?”

“I - I’ll see them again,” another tear falls from Blaine’s eye. “Maybe not as much as I would like, but I will.”

“No, you won’t,” David takes a step closer to him. “You’ll get sucked into the high life. You’ll get lost in the luxuries and in the King and you’ll have no time for your family.”

“Do you really think so low of me?” Blaine asks, glaring through his tears. “That I’ll get so distracted by a couple of fancy meals that I’ll forget my family?”

“I never said you would forget them,” David says, shaking his head slightly. “I said you would not have time for them.”

“I’ll be a concubine,” Blaine throws his arms in the air. “I’ll have nothing but time!”

“Time spent in the castle. Time spent with the other concubines. Time spent making yourself beautiful. Not time with your family.”

Blaine groans in frustration. “Why are you making this about my family?”

“Because this _is_ about your family,” David practically shouts.

“No, this is about _you_ ,” he spits out the last word. “You and me and the fact that if I’m the King’s concubine we can’t get married! Why can’t you just admit that you love me and you’re sad to see me go!”

His outburst is met with silence and David looking down at his feet, shoulders shaking as he sobs in earnest.

“I can’t,” David finally says. “I can’t think about that, about not marrying you. I don’t want to live in that world. Don’t make me live in that world yet.”

Blaine is crying now too, and he closes the gap between them, hugging David as tightly as he can.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says. “I’m so sorry. You know if I had a choice…”

“I know,” David whispers, burying his face in Blaine’s neck. “I just love you so much. I don’t want to think… I just don’t want to think about this.”

“I know,” Blaine echoes back. “I know.”

**

David spends the night again, and thankfully this time Blaine is around for it. They set David up on the couch, but after Blaine’s parents fall asleep David sneaks into Blaine’s room. They kiss a little, but mostly hold each other, silently mourning the life they’ll never have.

Even though he will no longer be marrying their son, Blaine’s parents insist on continuing to train David as a baker. They won’t have a child to take it over anyway, they say, and David might as well be their own child regardless.

It makes Blaine feel a little better, knowing that the bakery will be taken care of.

**

Word spreads, and word spreads fast.

Blaine isn’t even sure how it gets out, but soon enough there are people lined up outside the store wanting to buy bread from one of the King’s future concubines. They are soon the most popular bakery in all of Westerville.

His parents like to tease Blaine about it, as well as tease each other, saying their bread wasn’t good enough until somebody who had been with the King touched it. Blaine knows it’s their coping mechanism so he leaves them to it. He remembers how much they joked around after Cooper left, and he also remembers hearing them cry together at night as quietly as possible.

This time he doesn’t hear them cry, but he isn’t sure if that’s because they aren’t crying or because they’re better at hiding it.

**

As the months pass Blaine feels anxiety growing inside of him.

It’s the not knowing that’s the worst. Blaine doesn’t know when the King will return and whisk him away from everything he knows and loves. He’s been keeping an eye on the papers, but if they have any information on the going-on’s in Essex they are withholding it. The only thing about the royal family that is ever mentioned is that the Prince has purchased a horse from Essex and has been seeing training on it day in and day out.

Strangely, it makes Blaine desire a horse even more.

He wonders if the King will allow him a horse.

He tries to think of the King as little as possible, but it is incredibly difficult. Every time he and David kiss (an activity they have not been partaking in quite as often since Blaine’s night with the King) he cannot help but think of how the King kissed him. When his parents smile at him he thinks of the fond smile of the King. When he goes for walks he remembers running up the road to his bakery, barely holding back tears.

As much as he wishes to live his final months of freedom in peace he simply cannot escape the thoughts, and every thought only increases his anxiety.

He can’t help but think of the many ways in which things could go wrong.

Perhaps he will arrive at the castle only to find that the King has found a younger, prettier concubine in Essex, and will be shunted to the side before he has the chance to prove his worth. He has heard the stories of forgotten concubines, concubines thrown from the castle with nothing but the clothes on their back; concubines who are forced to return to their home towns, unable to marry due to their non-virginal status. Concubines forced to work the lowest of jobs after disgracing their families, their villages. He worries day and night that that is what he will become.

Perhaps none of the other concubines will like him. It’s very likely, in fact, seeing as he will probably be the youngest of them all, and (unless the King finds a younger, newer concubine in Essex) as the new blood he will no doubt be the King’s favorite for several months at least.

Perhaps the day he arrives at the castle a foreign army will attack and a wealthy Lord or Lady will take all of the King’s concubine for themselves and proceed to treat them as nothing but low level sex slaves.

Thousands of scenarios float through his mind day in and day out. None of them are good.

Except for one. One single scenario out of thousands of horrible ones.

It’s David who brings it to his attention.

“What if you became King?”

Blaine sputters around the glass of water he is drinking, staring at David with wide eyes. “What?”

“Well, it’s not exactly unusual,” David says. “You know the King’s parents, his father was his mother’s concubine before they wed. And his grandparents, why his grandmother was his other grandmother’s first and only concubine. It was quite a scandal when King Burt did not choose a concubine to be his consort all those years ago.” He shrugs and continues, “Really it’s more surprising that King Burt hasn’t chosen one of his current concubines as his next King or Queen yet.”

Blaine shakes his head. “I’m not going to be King.”

“You never know. The King was well enough pleased with you to make you a concubine. Who says you will not continue to please him so much that he makes you his husband?”

“I’m not going to be King. End of discussion.”

David shrugs and goes back to his dinner. Blaine tries to, but he cannot seem to stop thinking about the possibility.

Because it is a possibility. Not a large one, but a possibility nonetheless. The truth is, there have been very few royal consorts who were not previously concubines. Blaine can only think of three in the entire history of the kingdom.

Still, he tries not to dwell on it. He doesn’t even want to live in the castle, much less become King.

Although…

No. No, he does not want to become King. He will be the King’s concubine, and he will be as excited as everybody else when he eventually chooses somebody else as his royal consort.

He reminds himself of this every time he thinks of it, but he still can’t help but wonder.

**

“What’s it like?” David asks him one night, both huddled under the blanket on Blaine’s bed. They’ve been exchanging slow kisses ever since David snuck into his room, the first they’ve shared in months, and Blaine is a little sad that the kisses have stopped.

“What?” he asks, trying to pull David closer to him.

“Sex. Making love. Being… intimate.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “That’s the one you have a hard time saying?”

“Be quiet,” David says, blushing. “You know what I mean.”

Blaine nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

David nods. “I’ve been wondering for some time and, well, my parents won’t tell me anything.”

“But won’t you be jealous? Hearing about me with another man? I don't know David…”

“Blaine, I’m already jealous. I know it happened. You telling me about it isn’t going to make me any more jealous than I already am. It’s not possible. Details. Please.”

Blaine swallows thickly. “Are you sure? Because-”

“Details, Blaine. Now.”

“Alright,” Blaine lets out a long exhale. “What do you want to know?”

David shrugs, suddenly looking far shyer than before. “Did you two… you  know?”

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “Have sex? You know we did.”

“No, I know, I mean. You know. With your butt.”

Blaine blushes, but nods. “Yes.”

David blushes as well and looks away. “Did it hurt?”

“More than anything.”

David whips his head toward Blaine, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yes. He was very careful and very kind, but ultimately yes, it hurt very much. I don’t think I was well enough prepared and the King wasn’t exactly small.”

“Oh, god.”

“I’m sorry. Was that too much?”

“No, I just,” David shakes his head. “I just wish it could have been me. I would have never hurt you. Mainly because you would have felt comfortable telling me to stop.”

“David,” Blaine chastises, and David rolls his eyes.

“I know, I know. You know it’s true though.”

“Yes, I know.”

They’re silent for several moments, then Blaine asks, “When you imagined it - us - did you imagine it that way? You penetrating me?”

“That’s not what we’re talking about.”

“It’s just a question.”

“It’s an inappropriate question,” David says.

“This is an inappropriate conversation,” Blaine counters.

David huffs, then looks down at his hand, which is fiddling with the edge of the blanket covering them both.

“Yes. I imagined me penetrating you. Sometimes the other way. But most of the time…” he still doesn’t look at Blaine. “You?”

Blaine purses his lips, and decides honesty is the best course of action. “I never allowed myself to fantasize about that with you,” he says quietly. “I worried… I worried I would not be able to stop myself around you if I did.”

“I see.”

“Are you… are you angry?”

David shakes his head. “I understand.”

Blaine swallows thickly and admits, “It’s been difficult not to think of it since. I know… I know we aren’t really betrothed anymore, technically, but I still love you.”

“I still love you as well,” David says quietly. His hand reaches out and cups Blaine’s face. “More than I can stand.”

Blaine leans into David’s hand and kisses his palm. “I am sorry, David.”

“Don’t be.”

“I still am.”

They share a bittersweet smile, and then a bittersweet kiss. David sighs against his lips. “I hate that man.”

Blaine’s eyes widen. “David!”

“I know he is the King. I understand that. But he is taking you from me, and I hate him for it.”

Tears well in Blaine’s eyes. “I… I will have a good life in the castle,” he says, more to himself than to David. “I will never want for anything.”

“You will want for a husband, and children,” David says, voice quiet but dangerous. “I know you have always dreamed of a family. How can you say you will have a good life when you will be deprived of everything you desire?”

“I know that you mean well, David, but I am going to the castle. I will be the King’s concubine and there is nothing you can say or do that will change that.”

David stares at him, then leans forward and kisses him. It’s a hard and passionate kiss, the kind of which they have only shared twice in the past. Within seconds David’s tongue is plunging into Blaine’s mouth and licking the taste of the King’s out.

His hands fall to Blaine’s hips, hips that have not been touched since his night with the King.

“David…”

“I know,” David whispers, hands squeezing Blaine’s hips. “I know we shouldn't. But you were to be my husband, Blaine. You were to be mine, and now I will forever wonder what life we may have had together.”

“I love you,” Blaine whispers, leaning in to kiss David again. “You know I love you.”

“Then please, let me love you.”

Blaine deliberates. “We… you shouldn’t. David, your abstinence is all you have. Everybody already knows that you were engaged to a man who became the King’s concubine. They know you have remained my close friend despite our broken engagement. They know how often you spend the night at our house. There are already so many rumors…”

“Then let the rumors be true,” David says, almost desperately. “My virginity was always meant to be yours. If you cannot give yours to me, at least allow me to give mine to you.”

David is staring at him with wide, desperate eyes, and Blaine feels his resolve slipping. “You should save yourself for your future husband,” he tries, pleading more with himself than with David.

“You are my husband, Blaine. In my heart you will always be my husband.”

Those words make Blaine’s decision. He leans forward and kisses David, softly at first, then firmer.

He guides David’s hands. Brings them to his hips, then encourages him to run them up and down his sides. He rids himself of his shirt, and his heart speeds up when David does the same.

He shows David what to do. He moves his hands, he leads them where he wants them, tells him when he is going too fast or too slow.

It's strange. It wasn’t even a year ago he was the pupil. Now he is the teacher.

David is a star pupil, too. Far better than Blaine was. He's nervous, but tries not to let it show. He kisses with surety. He _wants_ to do this.

A little too much, as after Blaine applies some lubricant to his fingers he thrusts them in slightly too fast. Blaine hisses and reaches down to grab David's wrist and sets an appropriate pace. David whispers an apology, and Blaine lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

It's incredibly different with somebody he actively wants to be with. David's cock is smaller, but that seems better. He's far less experienced, but that doesn't matter. He doesn't know how to hit that lovely spot inside of Blaine, but Blaine has been close since David entered him anyway. He doesn't have protection, but it feels like so much to be able to _feel._

Blaine wheezes out a quiet _I love you_ as he comes, David following shortly after. It's wonderful, riding out the wave out together, and as soon as Blaine begins to feel sensitive David slips out.

It is David who finds a towel with which to clean them with, and he does it with such reverence that Blaine practically swoons.

Afterwards, both dressed once again just in case Blaine's parents should come fetch them early that morning, David whispers, “Was I good?”

Blaine cups David's cheek and kisses him thoroughly. “You were wonderful. Best I've ever had.”

David smiles at that, but there are tears in his eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Blaine whispers back. A tear falls from David's eye and Blaine leans forward to kiss it away.

“Hold me?” David asks, shifting so his back is to Blaine. Blaine nods, even though David cannot see him, and wraps his arms as far around David as he can.

He falls asleep like that, hoping the King will never ask to be held in this way. He never wants to taint this memory.

For the first time since he was summoned by the King he has done something solely for himself, and he refuses to have that taken from him.

**

Blaine's parents do come to get them earlier than expected. Blaine is worried they will chastise them for being wrapped so close together in the same bed, but they don't.

“Blaine,” his mother says, hand clutching her husband’s desperately. “There is a man here for you.”

Blaine’s heart stops in his chest. He can feel David's heartbeat has sped up, but he continues to act as though he is sleeping. Blaine swallows, trying to hydrate his suddenly dry throat, and nods.

He nods slowly and gets out of the bed carefully. He pulls on some breeches over his sleep pants and heads downstairs.

The page who came to find him last time, Mason, is standing in the middle of the bakery. Tears well in Blaine's eyes. This is really happening.

“The King has sent me ahead,” Mason says. “They will not be stopping in Westerville for the night and he would like you to be ready when he arrives.”

Blaine tries to blink away the tears. “How long do I have?”

“Two hours, at most. You shouldn't have much trouble packing. The King will be providing you with an entirely new wardrobe once you arrive at the castle,” he looks over what Blaine is currently wearing with disdain. “He likes his concubines to wear Hummel colours.”

“Alright. I will… I will go pack. Please, feel free to come upstairs and relax. My parents can make you some tea.”

“Thank you,” Mason bows slightly, and Blaine does the same, unsure of the procedure. He turns to his parents, squeezes each of their hands in turn, and then hurries back upstairs.

David is in the same position he was when Blaine left him. “He's here, isn't he.”

“He will be, in a couple of hours.” He kneels next to David's face. “Will you keep me company as I pack? I don't want the page to see you.”

David smiles a little at that. “A concubine’s mistress. Who would have thought?”

Blaine shakes his head, a bittersweet smile coming to his face.

He packs in silence, David staring at him from his place on Blaine's bed. It feels ironically domestic, Blaine preparing for a journey while the man who was to be his husband stares from the bed.

It has been well over an hour when Blaine turns to David and says, “May I have your sleep shirt?”

David nods and pulls it over his head, handing it to Blaine. Blaine nods and purses his lips together. He places it at the top of his trunk.

There's a knock at the door. “Blaine? There's a carriage for you.”

Blaine fights not to cry. He snaps the lid of his trunk shut, then goes to David and plants one final kiss on his lips.

“I wish I could have been your husband.”

“As do I,” David whispers, voice thick. They stare into each other's eyes until there is another knock and an impatient “Blaine!” on the other side.

He kisses David's cheek, says a quiet goodbye, and heads out the door, trunk trailing behind him.

It's his father on the other side of the door. He takes Blaine's trunk for him and leads him downstairs, where Blaine's mother and Mason are waiting for them.

Mason takes the trunk from Blaine's father and takes it out to the carriage, allowing Blaine and his family a blissful moment to say goodbye.

“I will call on you,” Blaine promises. “And I will visit as often as I am allowed.”

“We will miss you,” his mother says tearfully. His father nods, his own eyes wet as well.

“I will miss you, too,” he says, leaning in for a hug from each of them. “This is not goodbye. Not forever.”

His parents don't reply, instead pulling him back in for a three way hug. Blaine has to press his eyes shut so as to keep himself from crying.

“Take care of David,” he whispers to them. “And of each other.”

“We will,” his mother says, squeezing him close.

“Blaine,” Mason calls. Blaine separates from his parents and turns to the page. “It's time. I see the other carriages.”

Blaine nods and walks toward him. He turns to give his parents one final wave, ignoring the lurch in his chest as he sees them crying silently, leaning on each other for support. They wave back, and his mom blows him a kiss.

Knowing he won't leave if he stays a minute longer he turns from his parents and enters the carriage waiting for him. It's empty save for his trunk.

Mason closes the door and goes to sit up front with the driver. Blaine has to press his eyes shut once more to keep from crying. He refuses to cry. Not here, where anybody can see him.

He opens them when the carriage begins to move. He looks out the small window and watches as the town he grew up in, the town he thought he would grow old in, disappears around him.

He watches and bids a silent goodbye to the life he almost had.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two will begin posting on Friday, March 25! Hope to see you then :)
> 
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> [ rebloggable on tumblr ](http://klaineanummel.tumblr.com/post/140753686590/a-night-with-the-king)  
> 


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